


semper paratus

by shannedo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Endgame, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Time Travel, ask Scott Lang he actually watched Hot Tub Time Machine, don't ask me how this affects any timeline I don't know, mentioned Old Wrinkly-Ass Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 05:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20420861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shannedo/pseuds/shannedo
Summary: The problem with the space-time GPS was that it was still pretty damn janky. Just last week in a test, Scott had attempted to teleport from upstate New York to lower Manhattan and had been bewildered when everyone around him was speaking Dutch and calling the cityNieuw Amsterdam.In an attempt to perfect Tony's space-time GPS as a means for teleportation, Sam makes the quantum leap from the Avengers facility to Brooklyn. It's just not the Brooklyn he was aiming for.





	semper paratus

There was some serious ass clenching going on as Sam stood on the specially designed platform, watching Banner fiddle around with dials and scratch his head in confusion. It was times like this where he wanted to knock Steve Rogers’ dentures in with his stupid shield. Or at least not blend his soup smooth enough for him to eat.

Ever since the greatest time heist of – well, all time – and the whole saving the world thing, the Avengers had been trying desperately to regroup, dragging themselves back from the heavy blows dealt to their ranks. A large part of that had been working on retrofitting Tony’s spacetime GPS to not rely on a finite source of Pym particles. Steve and Tony having to time hop back to the seventies to scavenge more Pym particles had proven once and for all that if something could go wrong, it would.

Nobody was aiming for any repeat of the time heist, however. Once had been hard enough, he’d been reliably informed. None of them were so arrogant to think that they should be messing around with timelines unless the entire universe was at stake (which, to Sam’s dismay, it often was) but Banner had posited an interesting idea for Tony’s last invention. If they could perfect the “space” part of spacetime GPS and make leaps across cosmic distances instantaneous… well, it would make the universe a hell of a lot smaller, figuratively speaking. Bringing Captain Marvel, the Guardians and Thor closer to Earth and the rest of the Avengers closer to everything else was the goal.

The problem was that the tech was still pretty damn janky, for lack of a better term. Hence the ass clenching. Just last week in a test, Scott had attempted to make the Quantum Leap from upstate New York to lower Manhattan and had been bewildered when everyone around him was speaking Dutch and wearing wide brimmed hats and petticoats and calling the city _Nieuw Amsterdam._

“I still think you should take the wings,” Bucky said, standing with his arms folded over his broad chest. The new haircut meant he didn’t have slightly dirty bangs to hide his misgivings, and Sam could read the concern plain on his face. “Or at least the shield.”

“Yeah, because if this works, zapping into Brooklyn in full battle costume definitely won’t cause any mass panic – or worse, mobs of adoring fans.”

The last bit at least got a smirk out of him. “I’m just saying, if Hydra beat one thing into me, it was always be ready for a fight.”

It was always hard to argue with Barnes when he pulled his _The Nazis tortured me for 70 years _trump card. Nevertheless, Sam patted the tiny vial in his pocket, containing the unused Pym particle that was supposed to bring Steve back to them sans walker and hearing aid. “It’s okay, we got a plan B. Anything goes wrong, I can zap back in an instant,” he said. “And nothing’s going to go wrong anyway. Right, big guy?”

Banner’s sheepish smile was a mile off reassuring. “Exactly. Of course, we can never be totally accurate with where we place you in space and time – we’ve still got to deal with the limitations of the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle – but we can still be a lot more accurate until that’s even a problem.”

Bucky was looking at the big green man like he’d grown a second head - not utterly outside the realm of possibility. “You’re right, Sam, I can see absolutely no way in which this could go wrong,” he said icily.

“Exactly,” Sam said, electing to ignore Barnes’ insincerity. “What’s rankling you so much, anyway? I’m the Falcon – nobody’s kicking this ass unless I let them.”

“Sam, I don’t mean to be… indelicate but we haven’t exactly been accurate on _when _you jump to. And American history hasn’t exactly been kind to-“

“Black people?”

Bucky sighed. “Well, yeah. I just think it would be a better idea if I-“

“Hey, hey, you sat up until 2am arts-and-crafting your own dreidel garland for Hanukkah last year, you’re hardly ticking all the WASP boxes either so don’t even start with the self-sacrificing. I’m already standing here, ready to go, emergency exit plan in my pocket, so let’s just go with it, please?”

Bucky made a face and went to chewing at his fingernails, his go-to gesture of _I am unhappy about this, _but he said nothing further.

Bruce looked reticent to jump in. “I think we’re ready,” he said, eyes darting between Bucky and Sam like he was watching a tennis match.

“Fire it up, big, green and beautiful,” Sam said.

“See you in ten seconds,” Bucky said.

Sam nodded. “Catch you later,” he said before the nanotech helmet scaled up his neck.

His visor shut, he gave Banner a thumbs up and with an uncomfortable lurch and jolt, he was hurtling through spacetime. The wild joy of it never really wore off. He’d practically thrown himself at the chance to cut through the air on a pair of metal wings, for crying out loud, he didn’t think he’d get over the thrill that shot down his spine at the idea of warping space and time to his will. For the barest second, everything was nothing and his body was being pulled in every direction, then reality was snapping back into place. Clownish and warped one second, totally unremarkable the next.

He was in New York, at least. The red brick buildings rising above the stoop he’d popped into, the cobblestoned street and the blanket of smog were all dead giveaways. He just needed to find a street sign or something that pointed towards ferries or Prospect Park or something else undeniably Brooklyn-ish. He waited for the nanotech suit to scale back and then stepped out onto the street. As soon as he did though, it slowly crept up on him that there was something undoubtedly funhouse-mirror-ish about this place. It looked like New York, even smelled like New York, but didn’t sound like it. He felt like he had a word on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t quite force it out. What was it? What was wrong?

_Quiet, _his mind supplied.

Right, quiet. The ever-present rumble of cars, the footsteps and mutterings of millions upon millions of people. It was there, just not quite loud enough. It clicked when a man walking past stared a little too long at his attire before raising an eyebrow, right as a car that belonged in a museum trundled past.

What freaking decade was it?

Sam had the sudden urge to duck back into an alleyway and hide. In hindsight, a leather jacket and Levi’s probably didn’t make for the most era-ambiguous outfit, but he’d kind of been expecting Bruce to fall within a thirty-year margin. At the very least, a year where it was no longer polite to refer to a woman as a dame or a broad.

But no. As per usual, Sam Wilson asked for too much. And as per usual, Sam Wilson resolved to act like everything was fine until he’d panicked his way to a solution.

Up ahead on the street corner was a bodega with a newspaper rack out front. Perfect. If he could confirm the date and use the street signs to find out what intersection he was at, he could zap back to the twenty first century and use the miracle of the internet to figure out exactly how accurate Banner had been with the location, seeing as time-wise he was still out by roughly one human lifetime. Great plan. Good job, Sam.

Just as he was making way for the bodega, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from passers-by, he heard a clattering down an alley. He paused with his weight on his toes, his stomach giving a lurch as he heard the distinctive _humph _of someone having the wind knocked out of them. Damnit. Even roughly eighty years outside of his remit, his conscience wouldn’t let him ignore a mugging. Guess he’d just have to go be a superhero before the concept was even invented.

He apparently wasn’t the only person to overhear, though, as a man in a military uniform – really? What year was this? – was already ducking down the alley, making for the source of the noise. Sam almost breathed out a sigh of relief at being let off the hook. Almost, because his stomach was still tugging him towards the alley, because there was a good chance that some dude who had passed basic training was still going to get his ass handed to him. Only a little begrudgingly, Sam followed the man down the dingy alley.

The sight that met his eyes damn near knocked the air out of him.

There was a man – built more like a boy than a man – lying on his side and wheezing on the rough cobblestones, in amongst the trashcans. His fingers twitched for a metal lid, lying just out of reach, as someone twice his size leered over him. The skinny man was scrabbling to his feet and grabbing the lid of the trashcan and even though Sam couldn’t hear the words of the thug, what the skinny man said next halted him in his tracks.

“I can do this all day.”

Even barely five feet tall and a sack of skin and bones, Sam knew that voice, those words. Even made watery by time, the Steve that Sam knew today still had those striking blue eyes.

The absurdity of it all – he’d really wandered into an alleyway in 1940s Brooklyn where Captain America was stubbornly getting himself beaten to a pulp – had him rigid. Sam’s heart leapt to his throat and even as the thuggish man wound up for another punch, he couldn’t make himself move.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to, as before the thuggish man could even swing, the man in the military uniform was grabbing him and pulling him back. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” was growled out before the uniformed man smashed the thug clean across the jaw, sending him staggering. The uniformed man went to Steve’s side, who said in a surprisingly whiny voice, “I had him on the ropes.”

Sam didn’t have time to laugh though as the thug was recovering from the uniformed man’s hit. Sam’s stomach lurched when the thug rounded on him, ready to attack him when his back was turned. He was finally shocked into action.

He swung his arms around the man and grappled his hands together, slamming them back into the man’s solar plexus with a satisfying _wheeze. _With a swift duck, he avoided the wild flailing of the man’s arms at him and put himself between the thug and the men he meant to attack. He shoved the man while he was caught off balance and brought a fist down hard on his nose, hearing a _crunch, _When the man reeled away from him, howling in pain, he landed a strong kick on his backside to send him stumbling into a heap on the curb. “You heard the man,” Sam barked at the snivelling wreck, and kept his eyes locked on him until he’d scuttled away, clutching his spurting nose. With that, Sam clapped the dirt off his hands and turned back towards Steve and his saviour, only to be met with another punch in the gut – a figurative one, thankfully.

The man in the army uniform was younger, rounder in the face, slimmer and more softly built, but it was him. No doubt about it. Who else would be running headlong towards whatever danger Steve Rogers had gotten himself into, anyway? “Hey, thanks,” he said in that frayed voice of his and held out a hand to shake. “James Barnes.”

Sam could only stare at the outstretched hand for a second, the left one, flesh and blood. He grasped it, and felt a shiver run up his spine. “Sam… Samuel R-Rhodes,” he gritted out. _Romanoff is Russian, dumbass. You’re not Russian._

The man raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment on it. “Most people call me Bucky.”

“Most people call me Sam.”

He was still grasping Bucky’s hand, he knew, but he could feel the pulse thrumming under his fingers and couldn’t look away from blue green eyes so wide and vibrant they made his heart ache.

“Jesus, Buck, get a room,” uttered the small man half hidden behind him. Steve elbowed his best friend out of the way and grasped Sam’s hand in his own slender one. “Steve Rogers,” he said, and Sam had to bite back a laugh at the idea that anyone could not know that. “Thanks for the assist. As I was telling this big lug, though, I had him on the ropes,” the cheeky glint in his eyes made Sam grin.

“’Course. I just don’t like bullies.”

“Me neither, pal,” there was a split in his lip, and his skinny chest was still heaving from his winding, and Sam was struck with a powerful urge to protect, to throw his body between Steve and the slightest gust of wind. Someone so good, made so fragile needed a watchful eye. Said watchful eye was now trained on him, though, and for what felt like the millionth time, Sam was eternally grateful for the existence of Bucky Barnes.

“You often get yourself knocked about in alleys? And not in the fun way,” Sam said. Steve blushed a violent red at that and Bucky let out a full-bodied laugh.

“Like you said, I don’t like bullies,” Steve pushed his fringe out of his eyes, showing scrapes on his knuckles, old and new.

Sam smiled. “Good. The world needs more people like you,” he’d said it to Steve before.

“Tell that to the army,” Steve said mournfully to his shoes as a hard-set expression came over Bucky’s face, opening his mouth to argue.

Damn, that reminded him. “What year is it?” Sam blurted out.

Steve and Bucky blanched at that. “1942?” Steve said, clearly bewildered.

_Way to go, Wilson, freaking out the locals._ “And… and we’re in Brooklyn?”

“Yeah… did that guy hit you in the head, Sam?” Steve asked, concern clear on his face.

Bucky, however, was arching one thick eyebrow and unconsciously puffing his chest out, pushing himself a little in front of Steve. “Y’know, the higher ups say anytime you run into somebody who dresses funny, doesn’t know where they are, doesn’t even know their own name very well, they’re probably a-“

“Time traveller?” Sam said, hoping the smirk on his face was hiding the giddy panic.

“Spy.”

Sam laughed at that. “How many black Nazis do you know, Bucky? I’d sure to love to speak to them, maybe knock a little sense into them,” he said. “’Sides, if I was really here trying to undermine the American spirit, I’d have probably let Guts and Glory here get his ass handed to him.”

Steve frowned at that, but it seemed to appease Bucky. “Right,” he said, looking almost a little ashamed, “I’m sorry. You just can’t be too careful.”

Sam knew the feeling. He could never be too careful with Steve either. For a time, he’d have killed Bucky if it meant keeping Steve safe, so he let the accusation slide. “I get that,” he said. “When the going gets tough, I’d do anything to protect the people I love.” It was true, and someday a long time from now, Bucky would know it.

Just then, Steve hacked out a cough and both Sam and Bucky’s eyes flitted to him with a tinge of panic. “Shit, I’m gonna get him back to our place for a lie down,” Bucky told Sam.

“I’m right here, Buck, don’t need to talk about me as though I’m not. Don’t worry, I’ll get back by myself.”

“What, and get your ass kicked in another alley on the way? I don’t think so,” Bucky ground out. There was an argument to be had there, Sam could tell by the familiar flicker in Bucky’s eyes.

Steve grumbled a litany of curses that should make a good Catholic boy like himself blush before saying thank you to Sam once more and dodged past him up the alleyway, running away from Bucky’s overprotectiveness in a way that was very reminiscent of the way Sam knew them.

He was just left with Bucky, who seemed at a loss for words for once in his life, stammering at Steve’s retreating form. Then, his eyes flitted to Sam’s face and seemed unable to leave. To be fair, Sam felt the same, couldn’t stop skimming his gaze over the youthful fullness of Bucky’s cheeks, the blaze of his eyes, the hard line of his clean shaved jaw. He wondered what this Bucky would be like to bicker with, if he still got that shifty, untrusting look in his eye when faced with a food he’d never eaten, if he still sat in the corner and smiled stupidly when he drunk too much. Sam wanted to know all that and more but stopped himself from asking. “You’d better go after him,” he said, trying to stop thinking about the fact that he’d only have to reach out a hand-

“You’re right,” Bucky said, and Sam thought he heard a tinge of regret in his voice. Before he knew it though, Bucky was past him and away, trailing after Steve Rogers, who was likely up to mischief. Sam wondered if Bucky knew he’d still be doing that in eighty years’ time. Somehow, he knew the thought would make Bucky smile.

Sam blustered out a mournful sigh and shut his eyes, head rocking back upwards to face the heavens. His heart ached for them both, for Steve who had vitality ready to burst out of his frail little body, for Bucky who had no idea what was coming for him. Sometimes Sam thought God was making fun of him. He had been so close, and Sam couldn’t even touch him.

“Hey, Sam,” a voice said, and there was a hand on his forearm. He spun around sharply, and blue green eyes were staring back. “I-“ Bucky stuttered, “I just realised, I didn’t thank you properly. For saving both our asses there.”

Sam smiled at him. “It’s no problem. A pal of mine told me to always be ready for a fight.” He could see the sunken eyes and the scarred flesh transposed onto the Bucky in front of him now.

Bucky’s brow creased. “That’s a pretty sad way to live,” he said. It made Sam’s heart ache.

“He can be a pretty sad guy,” Sam said, his guts churning. “But he’s also pretty brave. He’s incredible, really.”

Bucky nodded. “Sounds like a lucky guy,” he said with a sad smile, “to have you, I mean.” He reluctantly let his grip on Sam’s arm fall, taking a step back to leave.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he did it. _Now or never, _was all that seemed to flash on repeat in his mind. Before he could stop himself though, Sam was crowding forward into Bucky’s space and pressing their lips together. It was sweet and brief, and Sam’s fingers combed through the soft hair peeking out from under his cap. When he pulled back to gauge Bucky’s reaction, the other man eyes were gleaming, and he surged forward to meet his lips again.

They lingered together, sweet and soft, Bucky’s fingers curled around his wrist, soft pads of his fingertips pressed to Sam’s pulse point. When they parted, his breath ghosted on Sam’s lips and his eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. So beautiful.

Sam stepped back, pulling his leather jacket straight and clearing his throat in an attempt to calm his thudding heart. _Jesus, it’s 1942, you don’t just do that, Wilson, _he chided himself. But he couldn’t seem to care.

Nor could Bucky, who was smiling at him softly, fingers still holding stubbornly onto his wrist. And God, when would those lovestruck eyes and that gentle smile never not work on him? “Hey,” he said in such a sweet voice it wrecked Sam, “there’s a dancehall on Bedford Av, y’know. We should go, tonight. Nobody would bother us there.”

If this man didn’t already have his heart. “That sounds nice,” he said, because he was weak.

Bucky grinned. “Meet you back here? About seven?”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” Bucky agreed. And just like that, he flashed that winning smile and was gone, trailing Sam’s tattered heart after him.

Sam could only stare at the place where he had been, could only feel his heart thrumming in his chest like a hummingbird. God, he was an idiot. He always had been, for Bucky Barnes.

Before he could even drag himself back to reality, there was an uncomfortable lurch and the world disintegrated before him. _No, _he wanted to scream, _it’s too soon! _But it wouldn’t do any good, because all of a sudden, the Avengers complex in upstate New York was flashing into existence before him and his legs crumpled like wet paper, sending him crashing to the floor.

“Sam!” Bucky – _his _Bucky – yelped as he raced to his side. Sam was gathered up in a pair of arms – one flesh and blood, one metal and cool – and his head was spinning like a disco ball.

“What happened?” Banner said, footsteps pounding forward, but all Sam could see was Bucky looking down at him, expression fraught, cradling his head in the crook of his metal arm. It made him feel guilty because he knew the agony that had brought Bucky to this point, but Sam felt grateful to have the metal arm back, if only because it made his Bucky a little more indestructible.

“Nothing,” Sam muttered to Banner’s question, his eyes never leaving that blue green gaze. “I just… I had a date."

**Author's Note:**

> In case you're wondering, Bucky figures out why Samuel Rhodes stood him up in about seventy years time. He's still pretty mad about it, though.
> 
> Hmu on tumblr @baelonthebrave - I post a lot of Avengers and Star Wars and such, but it's mainly memes. I'm also not from NYC (not even American) and have only spent a couple of weeks there so please forgive any inaccuracies, New Yorkers! I'm also not from the 1940s so make allowances there too lol.
> 
> Also if you’re interested in the Marvel pseudo-science, I never actually watched Ant-Man and the Wasp lol but I’m guessing that the Pym particle is supposed to be a fundamental particle akin to the Higgs Boson that is the mediator for spacetime. So really, since spacetime is all around us, so should Pym particles be and Tony should really know that and be able to make his spacetime GPS source them rather than having to provide them like an ingredient in a recipe. But, y’know, MacGuffins. My favourite part of being a physics student who loves Marvel is listening to the in-universe geniuses talk about physics and just being like “lol wut”
> 
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed & let me know what you think in the comments! Thanks for reading <3


End file.
